When Butterflies Were Band-aids

Look me in my heartache

And tell me there’s a cure

When butterflies were band-aids

Where fact and fiction blur

Speak to me in virtues

The one’s I’m pickled for

When only field’s were diamonds

And playgrounds left you sore

Hold me in your sorrow

With hands so soft and pure

When bedtime meant tomorrow

Was absolutely sure

Hear me as the willows

Send shivers down your spine

When fluff was just for pillows

Where wonder’s in the pine

Sense me in my mourning

For those yet to be fed

When fear meant it was pouring

Where Rover was still red

Send prayers if you still got em

Though mine have long since fled

This well’s filled from the bottom

Where sailboats are led

Like puppetry two marionette

I took her to this art event

She took me to her motel bed

Like puppetry two marionette

We tangled up our strings

Her eyes were wide like Eleanor

Rigby she was fiction for

The life I’d led a year before

I hadn’t slept a wink

It’s comical how looks predict

The ludicrous and obvious

By circumstance we came to this

Offering by the sea

Her hair jet black like ravens beak

The padding of her size 6 feet

Lenore her name I said quite meek

This time then nevermore

It’s lyrical how time can tell

Who’s heaven sent and living hell

An angel with a broken bell

Knows liberation’s free

Sometimes I think coincidence

Common sense and saying yes

Are infinite never in jest

Like cherry blossoms we

Sell ourselves a dollar short

Make amends and then spring forth

Pink petals fall on the seashore

There’s no telling what could be

An accident a sign from God

A work of faith handshake or nod

They’re simply an illusion on

The pleasure box we see

The message spoke ten times before

By Poe and his dear loved Lenore

Like love’s the end all message for

Both poetry and speech

So I took her to the airline that

Disagreed with both our backs

I mean this with no disrespect

It’s how some people meet

We never spoke another word

Jumped back into the universe

I came to grips was late for work

And landed on my feet

honest fiction

Fill me with whiskey,

I’ll spill some truth.

Fill me with time and no one,

and I have filled pages with reason.

Reason enough to explain the lies

I tried to convince myself true.

My most honest fiction, in truth

is all that I can do.

Not so fiction.




is meant



in your life



that doesn’t mean

you can’t tell



it doesn’t mean



a part of yours,

so be a dear

and change a name or two,

just don’t


the end —

they’ll know if you do.

Kings will be Kings no matter the King.

It’s ironic, really.

The way I wanted to do it,
wasn’t the way to do it,
until it was the way to do it.

And by that time,
I was already checked out.
My psyche in jump cuts like Breathless.

Plugging away in the same…old…fashion,
as those before me.
My movements were those of a machine.

Until it was the way to do it.
That which once wasn’t the way to do it.
The way that I’d wanted to do it in the first place.

If you’re confused.
That’s good.
Because I was too.

When it occurred to me one day.
The irony.
How kings will be kings no matter the king.

Lucky for me,
I knew this.
I also knew this.

You can dress the kid in the rags of a jester, but don’t expect his tricks to be any good!